Restless
by Lysha
Summary: It's the night before the anniversary of Ichigo's mother's death, and Rukia listens to the orangehaired Death God talking in his sleep... Oneshot with some onesided RukiaxIchigo.


**_Author's Note: _**Okay... I got into Bleach only yesterday, so I don't claim to be an expert of the series - if there's anything wrong here, I'm sorry, pleaes just let me know :)  
Anyway... this one-shot is based around episode 7, and yep, it has a little bit of one-sided RukiaxIchigo stuff. Well, I hope you enjoy it, and any reviews would be really appreciated. Thank you!

**_Dedication: _**This one's for my big brother Chris, for always looking out for me. Thank you so much!

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**RESTLESS**

The night of June 16th.

It had been raining outside, and the air smelled damp and musty as the moisture settled on the sidewalks. There was no moon overhead – nothing but a sky of deepest black, not even smudged by a star.

In the Kurosaki household, most of the family lay blissfully asleep, curled up tight against the cold of the dozing house, blankets tucked right up to their chins. Only one person – an uninvited guest of the family – was not resting as she should be.

Rukia Kuchiki lay awake in the makeshift bed she had fashioned in the closet of his room. Dark eyes wide open, she kept her hands behind her head, raising herself up a little from the pillow. She couldn't remember exactly how long she had been lying there, staring at the closet ceiling. There were times – after focusing solely on the darkness for long periods – when she forgot even why it was she couldn't sleep. But each time, the memory only took a moment to come back to her. His words earlier…

Ichigo Kurosaki – the fifteen-year old high school student who was serving the position of a temporary Death God after having sapped Rukia's powers from her. He was the one who owned this room in which she had set herself up this bed; the one she has acquired this faux body to accompany; the one who was quick to speak and act before he thought… yet he was the same one who had spoken to her with so much _sorrow_ earlier, as he recalled to her what the significance of tomorrow was.

_It's the anniversary. Tomorrow'sthe day my mom died. No, that's wrong.To be precise, it's not the day she died.It'sthe day she was killed._

Just remembering the words sent a jolt through her spine, causing her drooping eyelids to snap wide open once again. His words had seemed to come from almost another person entirely. He seemed so melancholy, so downbeat as he spoke that the thought of him, standing there with his back turned to her, gazing out of the window, addressing her in that way, haunted her to this extreme.

She hadn't really paid much thought before as to why Ichigo's mother wasn't around. But now she knew, she wished somewhat that she'd made that effort much earlier than now. Though she knew little about the human world, during her short time here, she had picked up that families who came from broken homes were not rare occurrences. She supposed she must have subconsciously dismissed it as another one of those situations.

Through the silence of the room, on the other side of the closet doors, Rukia had heard him tossing and turning in his bed, groaning in his sleep. It was obvious that his dreams were clouded by nightmares tonight, though Rukia wasn't surprised. His muffled grumbling was what she had been listening to all this time, even though most of his words had been indistinguishable. Though she was sure she kept hearing him call out to his mother…

Something within herself told her that she should not mention anything she had heard tonight to Ichigo. She felt almost as though she was listening in on some deep and precious secret that she was never meant to know. She felt as though she should stop listening, stop remembering… but how could she? Every time she tried to sleep and shut out Ichigo's words, they were the very same things that caught her wide awake again. But, as guilt-ridden as she felt, she found herself hardly daring to breathe as she listened out for Ichigo's sleep-talk. She remained completely still, straining her ears to hear him.

Once more, she heard the bed creak as he turned over. Then came more mumbles, not much louder than a whisper. Most of it sounded just like gibberish to Rukia, though his voice sounded agonised and sorrowful.

She sighed inwardly. Wasn't there anything she could do?

"I did it…"

The words were the first understandable sentence he had muttered all night, and were by far the clearest. Rukia jolted with shock as she heard them, wondering if he was awake. Then, hearing no more sounds follow it, she let her tense muscles relax. It was then that the words washed over her. _I did it… _she heard them echo in her mind. Her brow furrowed as she thought them over. 'I did it'? What did he mean…?

Rukia sat up in her bed, her head already pounding with lack of sleep. The more she tried to think it through, the more she decided that this, again, was something she wasn't supposed to know. Still… she felt as though she had reached the limit of her worry.

Taking a deep breath, she put her hands on the door panel of the closet. Then, very slowly, she pushed it aside, trying as best as she could to make no noise to wake any of the sleeping Kurosakis. She only dared open it an inch or so, setting her dark eyes to the gap so she could see him. Those words had been spoken so clearly… what if he was awake?

Swallowing hard, she cast her eyes over his still form, lying there in his bed. "Ichigo?" she whispered to him. Though she had barely breathed his name, the sound of her voice was a sudden shock to the silent air.

She waited for a reaction.

None came.

With almost a sigh of relief, she pushed the door aside a little more, just enough so that she could swing her legs silently from between the sheets, and drop herself to the ground, feet hitting the floor just as cat's would.

She remained still for a moment, not taking any chance. "Ichigo?" she tried again.

Again, there was no response.

Setting her gaze, she took the few uneasy steps needed to reach his bedside. His face came clearly into view.

He had placed a small, thin towel over his eyes – probably a way to shut out memories he could see when he opened them. His body lay still for now, blankets tousled around him due to his fidgeting. His hair was a sudden startle to the white of the sheets and the pale of his skin – a bright orange shock, not even toned down by the moonlight.

Rukia lifted her eyes for a moment to see the window that looked right over Ichigo's bed. The bare panes let dim pearly light spill out into the room. It was so dark outside… she guessed by now it was only just shy of the break of dawn.

Looking back down to his face, she saw that the moonlight made his skin look almost glass-like – fragile and cold to the touch.

Yet… leaning forward just slightly, Rukia saw that there were beads of sweat sliding down his face, and his brow shook with agony.

Instinctively, she reached out to place a hand on his cheek. She stopped short, slender fingers twitching in the air. She knew what she could do, but what if he were to wake up and see her standing over him like this? What would he think?

Once more, she heard him groan – a pained sound that echoed around the room.

Without thinking, she stretched back her hand, watching him twist over again, this time, towards her. Then that he lay still, breathing shallow.

She bit her lip, shaking her head, deciding she didn't care. As long as she helped him, that was all that mattered, right?

Cautiously, she bent her knees and perched just on the edge of Ichigo's bed, taking up as little room as she could. Unknowingly, her cheeks flushed at the sudden surprise of his body heat so near to hers. Just in front of her, his hand lay open, fingers twitching. Whatever he was dreaming, it was taking a lot out of him. Timidly, she reached out her own hand and placed it in his.

As soon as skin touched, his hand clamped shut. She covered her mouth with her free hand to stop herself screaming in surprise. She stayed there, breathing heavily for a few moments, eyes watching her hand in his.

But nothing happened – he didn't move, or speak. He seemed none the wiser to his actions.

As her rapid heartbeat began to slow, she lowered her other hand. It was shaking a little with nerves, but that didn't matter. Touching his skin lightly with her fingers, she felt his cheeks burning, dampened with sweat.

She paused, casting her eyes over his still lips, parted slightly, looking somewhat elegant in the moonlight. She looked over his hair again, and imagined the way those few loose spikes fell into his eyes, giving the toughened Ichigo Kurosaki an almost innocent expression…

"W-Way of Healing number 4," she managed to stutter, her _own _cheeks burning red now.

Still, as uncertain as the chant had been, it seemed to have worked well. The tension in Ichigo's brow eased, his whole face relaxing. Under her fingers, she felt his cheeks begin to cool, the last bead of sweat dripping from his face. In turn, the tight grip that had her fingers interlocked in his eased as his hand fell open.

It seemed as though he was already sleeping a lot easier.

Rukia hesitated, knowing she should go back to her own bed now. But for some reason, she couldn't bear to take her eyes from his resting face…

Begrudgingly, she withdrew her hand, eyes resting on his lips. Ridiculous thoughts crossed her mind, so unlike her that she brushed them off immediately. Tearing her gaze away, she stood up from beside him.

Without even glancing back, she began climbing in to the closet.

As she closed the doors shut quietly behind her, she failed to recognise another mutter from Ichigo in his sleep.

Listening hard enough, she might have heard the words, "Thank you, Rukia," drifting from his lips.

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Emily Nash-Medlyn (Lysha)

Monday 2nd January 2006 – Tuesday 3rd January 2006


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